


don't let me get me

by lionheartcas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Chuck as Castiel's father, Divorcing Parents, Genius Castiel, Homophobic Language, M/M, Mental Instability, OOC Alastair, Slight Degrassi References
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-21
Updated: 2014-06-21
Packaged: 2018-02-05 15:20:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1823164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionheartcas/pseuds/lionheartcas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I don't understand how you got an A and I got a C," Castiel sputtered, looking back through his paper.</p>
<p>"Isn't it obvious?" Dean asked. "I'm dating Mr. Henriksen."</p>
<p>(To bring his grade up in English, Castiel needs an editing partner for the semester. Dean needs a break.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It starts with an English paper.

For what he lacks in social skills and popularity, Castiel has always been an exceptional student. School has come easy to him since Kindergarden. He’s aced every course he’s ever taken, ranging from gym to mathematics. There are bumper stickers on his mother’s car, academic trophies on the shelves in his bedroom, and the hallway walls of his home are decorated with honor roll certificates and student of the year awards. A C on his assignment, in his best subject no less, is unimaginably, inconceivably, implausible.

“Mr. Henriksen,” he mustered slowly, as he walked up to his teacher’s desk, holding the paper in his hands. “How did I get a C?”

A few heads rise from behind him. It’s probably the first words he’s said aloud in class all year that weren‘t obligatory. He pays them no attention anyhow, because he’s holding a paper with a big red 'C' written on it. It’s the first assignment in his entire life he’s gotten less than a B+ on. The letter is taunting him, and he tries to stop his hands from shaking.

Mr. Henriksen looked up from his desk and pursed his lips. “Unfortunately, I did not find your paper to be satisfactory. Your earlier assignments were great, Mr. Shurley, but lately…your writing has become emotionless.” 

He turned slightly in his chair, and Cas suddenly felt tiny and vulnerable in the one place he thought he would never. He glanced down at the paper, the red letter still toying with his brain. His limbs decided to fail him, and they turned to jello along with his confidence.

“I don’t understand," he mumbles, flipping through the pages of the paper. "I used complex sentence structure, advanced vocabulary, figurative language…” 

Mr. Henriksen tilted his head and sighed. “That doesn’t tell me anything about you. This writing course is supposed to be personal. I need you to show me who you really are.”

Cas furrows his brow together in confusion. “My paper was about the correlation between war and religon.”

“It was a choice assignment, Castiel. You were supposed to excite me with something imaginative. Something near to you. While your structure of grammar and language is excellent, your writing is distant and cold,” Henriksen replied. He almost looked sympathetic as he leaned forward in his desk chair and glanced toward the seat in front of Castiel‘s. “Perhaps you would do better with a partner. Someone like…ah, Mr. Winchester.”

Castiel swiveled to face the classroom and stopped dead in his tracks. 

Dean Winchester, in all his glory, was sitting with his arms folded and his chair tipped back on two legs. Dean winked at him, and at that moment, Castiel wanted nothing more than to push Dean’s chair off its hind legs and watch him fall and crack his head open. But he couldn’t, so he turned back to Henriksen, mouth agape. “Him?”

“Him,” the teacher answers, a slight smile on his face. “Mr. Winchester’s assignments are very good, if not a bit wordy. I think you two could learn something from each other.”

“You can’t be serious,” he hissed.

“I’m entirely serious. If you work together on this course,” Henriksen stated, “I’ll let you re-do the paper and hand it back to me next week.”

Cas looked up in consideration. "That means I could bring the grade up?"

"If you can move me with a piece about you," Henriksen replied. "You might just get your A."

He wanted an A more than anything. Cas silently nodded and walked back to his seat, feeling Dean’s eyes following him as he sheepishly sat down. His entire face flushed as red as the grade on his paper.

“The two of you will be editing each other’s papers this semester,” Henriksen announced, and then he smiled, wide and gleefully. “Class, I think we have a very interesting partnership on our hands. Our own modern day Sylvia Plath and Ted Hughes.”

“Sylvia Plath killed herself,” Cas retorted under his breath. He heard Dean snicker and, only out of maturity, did Cas not reach forward and pull his chair to the ground.

When the bell finally rang, Dean turned around in his seat, his chair on all fours for the first time since class started. “Hey, partner.”

Dean punctuates the word 'partner' with another wink, and with that grand opening sentence, Cas wants to commit suicide already. 

Before he can say anything else, the boy starts again.

“Just so we’re clear, it’s Dean, not Mr. Winchester.”

He knows who Dean is, or at least the rumors that come with him. Cas has heard every story - from the supposed murder of his mother, to his parents being spies for government agents. Dean moved to Lawrence with his younger brother two years ago and the town has been buzzing ever since.

“Castiel,” he offers in return. “And I know who you are.”

The smile falters on Dean’s face, and then comes back as quick as it had vanished. “Do you?”


	2. Chapter 2

They’re sitting at Harvelle’s the next day when they should be in 4th period.

“This is a first,” Dean said. “Skipping school to do work.”

“It was your idea,” Castiel mumbled.

Dean ordered them two beers, and Cas thought he was going to kill Dean right then and there, but the waitress gave him a knowing smile and set two cokes down on their table. Dean wrote his number down on her hand and watched her as she walked back to the kitchen.

Cas sighed and shook his head.

“Something you want to say?” Dean asked.

He chose the academic approach, because he didn‘t really want to know about Dean and the waitress.

"I don't understand how you got an A and I got a C," Castiel sputtered, looking back through his paper.

"Isn't it obvious?" Dean asked. "I'm dating Mr. Henriksen."

Castiel’s eyes went wide and his mouth dropped open. There were rumors, he knew. Several teachers were enthralled with Dean, but Mr. Henriksen…

Dean rolled his eyes. “Geez, take a joke, buddy.” 

Without saying anything else, he grabbed the paper out of Castiel’s hands. He flipped through it quickly, and set it back down on the bar, glaring at Cas disappointedly. 

“What?” Cas inquired, crossing his arms defensively. 

“You’re a good writer, but you’re boring,” Dean quipped. “There’s no spark in this.”

Cas huffed in response. “What did you write about, then?”

“Monsters.”

“You believe in monsters?” he asked in disbelief. 

“Maybe, maybe not,” Dean chuckled. “But that isn’t the point. The point is to write something that gets you fired up - something that matters to you. Write about something that pisses you off.”

“Besides my English partner?” Cas muttered, snatching his paper back. Dean held a hand up to his heart in mock pain. 

Cas rolled his eyes and buried his head in his arms. This was impossible. He just wanted to take the C and be done with it.

“Come on,” Dean went on, “there’s nothing that seriously upsets you?”

He hesitated for a moment before peeking his head up. “My parents.”

Dean leaned back a bit, as if he was unsure of what to say. That was new, and Cas took it as a reason to continue.

“They argue a lot lately,” Cas continued. “I’m not even sure if there was a time before the arguing.”

Dean looked at him almost sympathetically. Clapping a hand on Castiel’s shoulder, he stood up and pulled his wallet out of his jacket pocket. “Screw the paper, you need a distraction.”

“But Mr. Henriksen-”

Dean cut him off. “Henriksen said you have until next week, right? That’s plenty of time.”

Castiel stood up, and Dean dropped his hand from his shoulder. He was almost disappointed. He wanted to hate Dean, he really did. He certainly didn’t trust him. 

Dean walked over to their waitress from earlier, stuck a ten dollar bill in her back pocket, and walked toward the door, motioning Cas to join him.

He would be lying if he said he wasn‘t worried about what Dean‘s idea of a distraction was. “What exactly did you have in mind?” 

Dean looked him up and down for a second, as if he was choosing his words. “I was thinking we might go buy some drugs. Maybe rob a liquor store or two.”

Cas didn’t know what to say to that, and instead he stood there in shock. Dean rolled his eyes again and shook his head. “I’m joking. Don’t believe everything you hear about me.”

Cas wanted to apologize, but Dean stopped him before he could. “I was actually thinking bowling.”

Cas might have actually preferred the drugs, but he didn’t say anything. He just nodded and climbed in the passenger seat of Dean’s impala.

 

The bowling alley, as it turned out, was about as old as Lawrence itself. The paint on the bowling balls was nearly gone, and the pins looked as dirty as the floor, but Dean didn’t mention it. 

If Cas was going to say something about how absolutely ridiculous this was, now was the time.

He didn’t, though, because Dean was his key to an A. As preposterous as that sounded, he was determined to write a better paper, even if it meant bowling.

He wasn’t paying attention until Dean bowled a strike the first time he went up to the lane.

“Your turn,” he beamed.

Cas took one look at the lane and was almost sick to his stomach.

“I don’t know how to bowl,” he uttered. 

“Seriously?” 

Cas bit his lip, but before he could reply, there were two arms on top of his own. He froze in his place.

“It’s really easy,” Dean murmured. “You just bring your arm back...”

Dean guided their right arms behind them gently until their hands were at Castiel‘s waist, and then jolted them back up.

“Cas, you’re supposed to let go of the ball,” he said, and Cas did. 

It dropped to the ground and rolled behind them.

Dean sighed and stepped back. “Okay, you’re supposed to let go of the ball when you throw it.”

He picked up the ball and walked back up to Cas, leaning over and bowling a perfect strike.

“See? Easy.”

Cas scoffed resentfully and tried again.

The ball went halfway down the lane before diverting to the gutter, and he could hear Dean snickering behind him.

Unsurprisingly, Dean won the game 171 to 20. 

Cas was lacing his regular sneakers back up after the game when Dean broke into hysterics. 

“You just let me take you bowling,” he snickered. “ _Bowling. _Are you 13?”__

__“It was your idea!” Cas hissed back._ _

__“I wanted to see if you’d actually go through with it.”_ _

__“Thank you for the humiliation,” he mumbled._ _

__Dean grinned and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Oh, come on. You don’t think it’s just a little funny? Two eleventh graders going bowling?”_ _

__His muscles betrayed him as his lips contorted into a small smile. “I’m in tenth.”_ _

__Dean hunched an eyebrow. “What?”_ _

__“I‘m in tenth grade.”_ _

__“You’re in eleventh grade English.”_ _

__“And math,” he chided as he stood up. “I’m intelligent.”_ _

__“Huh,” was all Dean said._ _

__“I would suppose being seen with a tenth grader is damaging to your reputation,” Cas taunted as Dean held the door open for him._ _

__“Nah, I’m more worried about yours. Wait ‘til it goes around that you’ve got a thing for older men.”_ _

__

__The chime of Castiel’s computer woke him up later that night._ _

__**_dwinchester: more age inappropriate activities tonight?_ **__

__He smiled to himself and looked to make sure neither of his parents were standing over him._ _

____**_cshurley: is that an invitation?_ **_ _ __

______**_dwinchester: do you want it to be?_ **_ _ _ _ __

________He thought about it._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Despite his reputation, Dean didn’t strike him as a bad person. Sarcastic, insufferable, and overly flirtatious, perhaps. But not a bad person. And he really wanted that A._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________It wasn’t like they were going on a date. He probably just meant to work on their papers._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“I don’t understand why you’re going to work tonight, Naomi.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Cas turned around in his desk chair._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Because the world doesn’t revolve you and your church fundraisers, Chuck! Someone has to do fundraising for this family!”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________He turned around to his parents to see his mom slam the door behind her, and he heard his Dad groan and fall back against the wall._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Is everything alright?” he questioned, knowing it wasn’t._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were in here,” Chuck stammered. “Everything is fine, but…is there any chance you want to sub in for your mother tonight?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________He looked pitiful and overwhelmed in his wrinkled suit._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Cas glanced back at his computer screen and sighed._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________**_cshurley: i would love to, but i can't. some other time_ **_ _ _ _ _ _ __

__________“I could wear my initiation suit,” Cas said._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Chuck let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. I’ll go iron it.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Is something wrong?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Don’t worry about it, Castiel. I promise, everything is fine.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________He shut down his computer and brought his knees up to his chest._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Everything was fine._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Author's Note:**

> This is a slight Degrassi AU, but I'm only using the idea of journal partners and nothing else.  
> No knowledge of Degrassi required for this fic.  
> Sadly unbeta'd, so I apologise for any errors.


End file.
